LITMIR.BIZ

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the call.”

      “I have a better idea. You make a call to the gypsy. Tell him to bring Mama back.”

      “That would be a wasted trip. We’ll be joining them soon enough.”

      “I’m not going anywhere with you. Besides not being able to tell time, you don’t hear well, do you?”

      “You want to see Mama, right? Lazie’s got quite a reputation as a lady’s man.”

      “Somehow I’m not worried Mama is going to fall hard for your colorful friend unless it’s while she’s scrambling to get downwind. He probably smells as bad as he looks.”

      “Lazie has never been above taking what he wants when his mind is set.”

      “You’re not suggesting that his mind is set on having my mother?”

      “He did confess an interest in Cookie.”

      “Cookie?”

      “He’s already given her a nickname. Sweet, isn’t it?”

      Casmir narrowed her eyes. “Are you blackmailing me?”

      “Oui. Call Polax.”

      “No.”

      “Tell him you ate something on the plane that scrambled your brain. Tell him since you last talked, you’ve taken some antacid, and now you’re thinking straight. Tell him we’re together and things have worked out.”

      Casmir was so busy plotting the appropriate death for Mr. Asshole that she didn’t see the guy she’d had words with earlier leave his table and head their way.

      “Your jealous badass boyfriend finally show up, cher?”

      She looked up and saw the cretin she’d backed off at gunpoint. Big Burly was once again behind him—the giant looked like barroom brawling was his profession instead of his hobby.

      Whatever, Casmir thought, but he really needed to get himself some new friends and a haircut and invest in a new razor.

      “I asked if dis is da boyfriend you was crowin’ about, cher?”

      She had never had a boyfriend, but if she was ever in the market for one, Pierce Fourtier wouldn’t make the bottom of the list. He was arrogant, practiced deviant tactics and no doubt had the morals of a rodent. Which was probably why Onyxx had recruited him as a rat fighter.

      She glanced at Pierce, who had lit another cigarette—she added chain smoking to the list of his unsavory behavior—then looked back at the cretin who didn’t know when to give up.

      “How old are you?”

      The question seemed to throw him. He blinked his bloodshot eyes, then slowly grinned. “Old enough to know what ta do with you, cher.”

      Casmir rolled her eyes. “What’s your name?”

      “Name’s Parnel, sweet thin’.”

      “Well, Parnel, I’m surprised that someone hasn’t shut you up permanently by now. If this is your routine every time a woman comes through the front door, I’m amazed that your throat hasn’t been slit, or your kneecaps blown off.”

      Pierce chuckled, and Parnel gave her boyfriend a narrow-eyed glare. “You tough enough to slit my throat, badass?”

      “It could happen, mon ami, if you’re not out of my face in five seconds.”

      “You think you’ve got big enough balls to send me to hell?” Parnel grabbed his crotch. “I guarantee mine are bigger. I can back up what I say in an alley or in the bedroom.”

      His friend stepped up and gave Parnel an elbow. “You’ve made a mistake. This guy is—”

      “Shut up, Frog.”

      “You should listen to your friend. He knows something you don’t. Something you don’t want to find out the hard way.”

      Casmir glanced at Pierce, then Parnel’s muscle-bound friend, who had just been given the name Frog. An interesting nickname, but Big Burly fit him better.

      Pierce and Frog exchanged that look. The look of recognition. Parnel never saw it: he was too busy puffing up his chest.

      “I doan like you. I’m not so sure I like your girlfriend anymore neither, but no one tells me ta get lost. What’s it gonna be, fists or knives?”

      “Parnel, I’m tellin’ you, this guy isn’t someone you want to piss off.”

      “Stuff it, Frog. He’s da one who should be worried ’bout pissin’ me off.”

      “But you don’t want to fight him. He’s—”

      “I said, shut up. We can do dis outside, or right here. Winner goes home with blondie.”

      “Ha!” Casmir laughed, knowing full well that Pierce Fourtier would never agree to such a ridiculous wager.

      She watched him stand. Now she would get to see just how tough Pierce really was.

      She studied his stance. She had to admit that he really did come off as a hard case. He had attitude, as well as a lean and fit body—the best in the bar from what she’d seen so far.

      Okay, so he wasn’t bad looking, either, but that didn’t mean she’d changed her mind about his growing list of faults. He was still out of a job, because she was never going to call Polax and go willingly to Le Mystère.

      With his expression composed, and his dark eyes giving nothing away—she remembered that about him in Austria—he said, “Your five seconds are up. I choose knives. Location, downstairs. Frog, set it up. By the way, it’s good to see you again, mon ami. It looks like Lazie’s been treating you well.”

      Casmir leapt to her feet. “Are you crazy? No one bets me in a wager. I’m not some—”

      Pierce slipped his arm around her and pulled her against him. “Have faith in your boyfriend, amant. If I lose, what is one night with Parnel?” He gestured to the man, who was now grinning like an idiot. “Look, he has all his teeth, and he’s guaranteed you a pair of big balls. What more can a woman want in a man?”

      Parnel’s grin grew while Casmir’s anger doubled. She tried to pry his hand off her hip. When that didn’t work, she finally found her voice and hissed in his ear, “Let go of me or your balls are going to be in your throat a second before I kill you.”

      Her threat didn’t seem to worry him, or budge his hand. He said, “I’ll join you in an hour.” When the two men walked off, he looked at Casmir. “You want to see Mama, oui? Killing me won’t make that happen, but it will give Lazie a chance to be alone with Cookie overnight.”

      “More blackmail.”

      “Blackmail? Fact? You make the call.”

      “What’s downstairs?”

      “A game room.”

      “What kind of game room, and how do you know about it?”

      He let go of her. “I used to work here.”

      Curious now, seeing that he was serious, she asked, “How good are you with a knife? Do you think you can win?”

      “Worried about me?”

      “I’m worried about finding Le Mystère after dark to rescue my mother from the gypsy should you end up a slab of meat at the morgue.”

      “I’m thirsty. I need a beer. You? What’s your poison, amant?”

      “Call the gypsy and warn him off. Tell him—”

      “His name is Saber Lazie, and Cookie will be fine as long as she doesn’t do anything stupid. It takes a lot to piss Lazie off.”

      Mama would be too afraid to do something stupid, Casmir thought.

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